


Push It

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Valentine's Kisses 2019 [42]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys with big dumb crushes who need to learn how to talk about their feelings, First Kiss, Future Fic, M/M, Third Year Captain and Ace Kindaichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 17:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Hajime decides to confess his feelings while they're both high on Seijou's thrilling victory, led by their captain and ace — one Kindaichi Yuutarou — and the timing couldn't be better.





	Push It

The squeak of sneakers on the court is such a familiar one to Hajime, but foreign all at once. It’s been two years since he finished high school, spelling the end of volleyball as a constant in his life. Sure, he plays a little bit of sand volleyball at college, but it isn’t the same. Not like this.

He looks out over the sea of mint green and white, Seijou’s ouendan as prominent as ever. Part of him had thought that the team without Oikawa might somehow be less electric, but he’s happy to be proven wrong. And their current chant isn’t half bad to hear, either.

_ Go go, Yuutarou! Push it, push it, Yuutarou! One more time! _

Seeing his sort-of-kind-of boyfriend wearing that old Number Four and standing behind the service line after cranking out a no-touch ace, ready to unleash hell upon Wakunan one more time, is actually really friggin cool. 

He’s a little taller, standing a little straighter, and looming over the court in a way Hajime used to assign to Ushijima. He hates the word ‘awesome’ because it’s used more than it’s understood, but Yuutarou does most certainly look awesome. 

So the play rolls on, Hajime joins in the cheer, and the game continues.

In two electric sets, Yuutarou steals the show. Four service aces, thirteen kills, and a jagload of blockouts are under his belt by the time the last whistle blows. Hajime doesn’t even hesitate to acknowledge that Yuutarou’s performance as an ace exceeds his own, even on his best days. Is it because he’s taller? Maybe. Is it because he works his ass off? Oh hell yeah.

Seijou’s squad is all smiles as they pile on each other, set to take on Karasuno in the prefectural finals. It’ll be interesting to see Yuutarou and Kageyama square off again, but that’s not even on Hajime’s radar right now.

All he cares about is how it feels when Yuutarou’s eyes scan the crowd, lock with his, and both of them blush like little schoolgirls. 

They’re definitely still in the ol’ will-they-won’t-they phase of their relationship. Hajime texts Yuutarou every day about the menial details of his day, and Yuutarou does the same. Every couple of days, they talk for an hour or so, either on Facetime or the phone, depending how much homework both of them have. 

Neither of them have said The Thing yet to make them an official item, but Hajime knows it’s something he wants and he’ll go for as soon as he knows Yuutarou wants it, too.

He won’t say it’s now or never, but Hajime isn’t sure when he’ll get another chance to do this face to face. Also, after watching his formerly shy and unsure kouhai go out and hand an entire team their asses on a silver platter, he feels like he can fly if he wants to.

After a few years hanging around the building, Hajime knows the way to the back that won’t get him shooed off by building security. And by security, he means an older lady in an orange vest who chases off non-players from the changing areas. 

Past the first floor bathrooms, over the fake little fence cutting off the back part of the building from the general public side, up one set of stairs and down another, and finally to the changing room assignment board. 

When a boisterous Seijou squad comes up the ramp and back toward their assigned room, Hajime is there with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall outside the door trying to look like he isn’t shaking on the inside.

Yuutarou turns a deep tomato red when he spots Hajime, and Hajime hopes like hell nobody else sees that he’s doing the same damn thing. Of course Kunimi notices; there’s little that goes on that he doesn’t absorb. He’s a little like Oikawa in that respect, he’s come to find, and it makes his brain explode a little.

The rest of the team files into the room, passing him by because most of them have no idea who he is (nor should they, really), but Yuutarou lingers long after his guys are inside. 

“Iwaizumi-senpai,” Yuutarou squeaks, and Hajime wants to laugh at that old familiar shy noodle of a kid he recalls from his third year of junior high. 

Hajime shakes his head. “Hey, none of that honorific stuff. I thought we got past that already.”

Yuutarou ducks his shoulders. “I keep forgetting. It’s automatic.”

“If you don’t stop, I’ll start calling you Kindaichi-san.” Yuutarou blanches at this. “Yeah, I thought you’d hate that.” Hajime gives the door a pointed look. “Now go spend time with your team, you complete and utter badass.”

Embarrassingly proud of how quickly he makes Yuutarou blush, Hajime pushes off the wall and heads for the second floor changing rooms, which are dormant far into the Interhigh Tournament. He sends Yuutarou a quick text with a room number, and he knows the message will be understood. After all, this is the first changing room they ever shared during a high school tournament. 

Even back then, they had been a little bit more than senpai/kouhai. Hajime remembers the rush he felt every time Yuutarou had cheered for him or thanked him for his help in the cutest goddamn way possible. In essence, that part of them hasn’t changed.

About twenty minutes later, the door creaks open. Yuutarou, back in his warm-ups, slinks into the room with wet hair and a smile that can’t quite deflate no matter how hard he tries. 

“I almost forgot what you look like with your hair down,” Hajime says, and Yuutarou’s fingers dart to the limp strands curling around his face. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing. I kind of like it.”

“I’ll remember that.” 

Hajime’s insides cheer at those words, because he has a feeling Yuutarou will change his hair just for him when they video chat. He certainly doesn’t want Yuutarou to change himself for his sake, but Hajime can’t deny that he has a stupidly strong urge to run his fingers through the soft crown of hair no longer gelled within an inch of its life.

But he doesn’t because that isn’t something he can do. Yet. That’s why they’re here, after all. It’s time to test the waters. “You were great out there. Definitely the best ace Seijou’s seen in a long time.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Yuutarou hides his face with the collar of his jacket. “I do think I played well, though.”

Hajime chuckles. “At least you’ll admit that much.” He bumps his shoulder against Yuutarou’s. “So what’s it like to be captain?”

Yuutarou’s nose wrinkles. “Annoying. How did Oikawa-san find time to do stuff outside of volleyball and still manage the amount of work that goes into being in charge of a few dozen idiots?”

“Easy. He didn’t.” Hajime chortles at the memory of Oikawa battling his time management skills and losing more often than not. “Got him dumped more than once because as it turns out, boyfriends who don’t return your calls or texts kind of suck.”

Frowning, Yuutarou looks down at the floor between his feet. “I don’t think I could do that to someone. I love volleyball and I want to be the best I can be, but it’s not forever, you know? The hardest lesson I learned this year is to know when to stop.”

“Then it’s a lesson well learned.” Hajime absently rubs his knee, his mind fixating on countless hours spent trying to get Oikawa to take care of himself and then cleaning up the wreckage when he didn’t. “Take care of yourself. You’re worth it.”

Yuutarou gulps, and his fingers drum rapidly on his thighs. “Thank you for saying that.”

Hajime flicks him in the ear. “Don’t thank me for saying true stuff. Raise the bar a little, will ya?”

“Okay.” 

The subsequent silence is long and awkward, and Hajime wants to claw at his brain until the right words come out. If it doesn’t work, it can be a clean break. They can totally get away with never seeing or talking to each other again if that’s what Yuutarou wants. But damn it all, it isn’t what Hajime wants at all. 

Why is he so nervous about this? He’s interested, and he knows Yuutarou is, too. All they have to do is step off the ledge and have faith in each other.

Time to rip the bandage off. “I like you,” Hajime blurts, and Yuutarou yelps next to him. “A lot. Have for a while. I just didn’t want to bring it up until the right time.” 

He sighs. “But there is no right time. There’s now and not-now. And right now, I really kind of want to kiss you and it’ll suck if you say no, but if you do, it’s okay. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

“Y-you do?” Yuutarou chews on his bottom lip, eyes not quite meeting Hajime’s, and Hajime hates how unsure Yuutarou is of himself. He deserves to be confident, damn it. “You like me?”

With a nod, Hajime stands and takes Yuutarou’s hands, dragging him to his feet. Yuutarou is easily a head higher than him and they probably look ridiculous standing next to each other looking like they’re quaking on little baby deer legs, but Hajime doesn’t care. It’s just a part of them. 

“Yeah, I like you.” With a heavy exhale, he adds, “But the ball’s in your court. What happens next is entirely up to you. If you wanna just stay friends, that’s okay. If you don’t want to see me again because this makes things awkward, I’ll hate it but that’s okay, too.” He swallows hard. “And if you happen to like me back, I’ll be one happy son of a bitch. A lucky one, to boot.”

“I —” Closing his eyes, Yuutarou mutters to himself under his breath, probably asking the man in his head for advice. Hajime stopped doing that a long time ago, mostly because the man in his head sounds way too much like Oikawa.

His eyes open, and he fastens his gaze on Hajime. “Yes.”

Preparing himself for a denial, Hajime rattles off the words he’s rehearsed in his head for hours. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want. I don’t want to pre — wait, did you just say yes?”

Yuutarou nods, a shy little smile making Hajime’s heart trip over itself, fall down a flight of stairs, and do a keg stand in victory. “Oh hell yeah.” 

Hajime pushes Yuutarou back to his seat because he can’t reach his mouth without stilts, and with a growl, he straddles Yuutarou’s lap and crushes their lips together.

Excited hands slip around Hajime’s waist and hike them even closer together. Years of weight training have made Yuutarou a lot heftier in the arm strength department, and Hajime isn’t quite yet prepared to admit that he’s into the idea of making out with someone who can twist him like a pretzel.

Breathless, Hajime tears their mouths apart and pants for air along with Yuutarou, their foreheads resting against each other and big stupid grins on both their faces.

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” Yuutarou murmurs, his eyelids heavy as they meet Hajime’s gaze.

Blinking in surprise, Hajime yelps, “What? You have?”

Yuutarou laughs at him, and he feels like he’s missing a joke. “Are you serious? How have you not noticed that I’ve had a big dumb crush on you since I met you? You’re the entire reason I know I like guys. Literally everyone knew that at Seijou.” He harrumphs. “Except you, apparently.” 

“My life is a lie.” Hajime tilts his head back and chuckles. “I could’ve done this forever ago, but I’ve been stewing like an idiot to protect you from me being a creep or something.”

Hands hardened by volleyball but soft in touch frame Hajime’s face, and Yuutarou brushes a thumb across the breadth of Hajime’s cheek. “I’m glad you waited. Back then, I liked you because you were so good at stuff and you were hot. Now, I like you because I know you.”

“That’s — I — oh, come here, you lanky bastard.” Hajime snares a heated kiss and groans when Yuutarou returns it in kind. 

They’re both gasping and blushing and completely okay with it. Finally, Hajime peels himself away and brushes a kiss on Yuutarou’s forehead. “I’ll call you later, okay? You should spend time with your guys. You need to soak up some admiration because you deserve it.”

“Okay.” Yuutarou closes his eyes and smiles. “I’ll talk to you soon.” His face turns beet red. “Hajime.”

Hajime blushes in kind, his given name honey drizzling onto his heart and he’s a sappy piece of shit and he’s not even sorry. “You got it, Yuutarou. I’m so damn proud of you, and don’t you forget it.”

They’re both flaming red as they part ways, but it’s the best slice of embarrassment Hajime can think of — one he won’t give it up for anything because it’s real and alive and all theirs.


End file.
